


Starry Eyes

by coquettish_murder_muffin



Category: Adam (2009), Charlie Countryman (2013), Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Adam is a precious space angel, Angst with a Happy Ending, Brain Injury, Everyone is in fucking love with Nigel, First Kiss, Implied Drug Use, Love at First Sight, M/M, Nigel got shot in the head and survived because that’s what happened okay, Spacedogs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-09
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-10-01 13:18:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10190708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coquettish_murder_muffin/pseuds/coquettish_murder_muffin
Summary: “Oh, no,” Darko said in his ear, catching onto the very specific, incredibly dumb look that crossed Nigel’s face. “We’re not going through all this again. Gabi, remember? Hello? Do you remember what happened last time?” He purposefully flicked Nigel in the head, hoping it might resonate, and was stricken when Nigel actually ignored him, just distractedly batting his hand away. Darko might as well have been a fly.“I must have him,” Nigel said under his breath, with great determination. He felt better than he had in months.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I recently fell in love with a band called Cigarettes After Sex (fitting, right?) and found them to have a very small list of songs, but each were wonderful. I’ve never written Spacedogs before, and for some reason these two things clicked in my brain. I’ll be writing a series for these two nerds, likely based off the individual songs. I only hope I do this ship some justice, because it’s an awfully fucking cute one.
> 
>  [Starry Eyes](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F_6Emq5dyXQ)

Nigel was lonely.

If _earth-shattering physical pain_ and _bitter, passionate heartbreak_ could be so plain and indescribable as the concept of loneliness. Nigel had never known this isolated, utterly _empty_ feeling before. He was used to always feeling _something,_ even if it was blind fury. Now, everything was in shades of grey. The world didn’t feel the same. And then he chastised himself, because he never cared that much about ‘the world’ anyway, whatever that meant. Nigel came first. Nigel always came first.

Maybe that had been his first mistake.

 _Me, me, me._ He had been selfish. With everything. Most of all, with Gabi.

His last act of love for her had been false, had been self-absorbed and mean. He wanted to hurt her.

He hurt himself.

“I’ve been reading more about this shit,” Darko said one morning, bursting through the door of Nigel’s bedroom in their _shitty_ flat in _shitty_ America, a place Nigel was not at all adjusting very well to and did not want to be in. It was too fast, and too loud. And _shitty._ He said so every chance he could, but Darko would just give him a funny look whenever he complained, like it was out of character.

It took him a while to realize it was.

Nigel didn’t bother pausing the television after Darko’s intrusion, instead allowing the grating high-pitched voices of the reality show to talk over him. It was more interesting than he was, most of the time. Darko’s fat white cat let out an irritated meow from where it sat in Nigel’s lap. It just sort of showed up in his room one day, and he never questioned it. Now it never left him alone. Kind of like Darko.

But Darko was not to be deterred. He was just as stubborn as Nigel. “I’m reading these articles and personal accounts, and it seems you are in fact, definitely fucked up forever.”

“ _You’re_ going to be fucked up forever, if you don’t get out of my fucking room in the next ten seconds.”

“Well, your temper hasn’t changed that much,” Darko said with a sagely nod, and glanced back down at the device in his hand. He scanned it over. “But the depression, the memory problems—”

“Who says I’m depressed? And nothing’s wrong with my fucking memory.”

“Give it a few hours, and I’ll point it out to you when it happens, smartass. Inevitably you’ll screw something up. Anyway, the anxiety—”

“The fuck do I have to be anxious about?”

“That’s the point, it’s irrational. Let’s see. Outbursts are to be expected, but honestly, you were already doing that shit before, so I can’t really tell the difference.”

“Get the fuck out, my head hurts.”

“Huh, I wonder why.”

It didn’t take much prompting for Darko to leave, once Nigel started throwing things.  

Nigel wasn’t stupid. He knew something was off. Nothing felt right to him, either.

Did it ever, to begin with?

Nigel would lie on the bed for entire days, channel surfing and sometimes just staring at the ceiling, letting the cool air from the fan wash over him. He smoked often, one of the few things that still felt relatively normal. Usually, he slept. He slept a lot. Darko said it was ‘to be expected,’ at first. That he was still recovering, that he would be recovering for a very long time. But then it wasn’t, and he was sleeping all the time out of his lack of interest in anything else. He was depressed, Darko would say, and Nigel would snarl a string of profanities and tell him to go fuck himself. Men like Nigel didn’t _get_ depressed. They fought endlessly, they fucked constantly, they kept too busy for any of that crybaby bullshit.

But Nigel wasn’t that guy anymore, not really.

His entire life had changed.

And he didn’t like it.

Nigel tried to do something about it, once. He went out with Darko and they filed into a bar and got properly drunk for the first time in ages. It didn’t sit so well with Nigel. He remembered getting thrown out, someone holding their jaw with busted teeth and blood everywhere, the bones in his fingers hurting and the flesh of his hand scraped deep. But before that, nothing.

This would have been fine, they would have just gone to another bar and probably had the exact same experience and not given a flying fuck about it, but Nigel wanted to go home. Right away. He suddenly hated the idea of clubbing, and especially the idea of finding women to fuck. No one would ever be as good as Gabi. Why should he try to find an ugly, cheap stand-in at all, when he knew that?

“But the women!” Darko had whined.

Nigel might have made some threats. Darko started going out alone after that. Nigel hardly left at all. And that was how things went.

Nigel was convinced he still loved Gabi, on some level, and that was why he was so disinterested in pursuing anything with someone else. Not even a one night stand, not even a _kiss._ But he didn’t even try to talk to Gabi. He didn’t do anything he could have done, and finding her would have been easy with their resources. He just didn’t want to. That didn’t make much sense to Nigel, because he was _certain_ in another life he might have fought tooth and nail to get her back, whether she wanted him or not. In that reality, he would have gone looking for her, and he almost definitely would have killed Charlie.

He would have killed for her. He would have died for her, and he almost did both.  

Maybe getting shot in the head had convinced him she wasn’t worth it.

Life was confusing. He often forgot what he was doing, or what he was thinking, sometimes right in the middle of it. He got disoriented. It was never _too_ often, but it was enough and at the most inopportune of times for Darko to get frustrated with him and in turn Nigel would get frustrated right back. He took it out on his friend, but his anger was with himself. He broke things, which was nothing new, but his irritation would melt into something completely different. A dazed sort of sadness that terrified him. Everything that made him angry also made him upset. He had always been an emotional person, never shy to profess his love or his sorrow, and especially his hate, but this…this felt helpless. And he despised it.

He would wake up at night in a cold sweat, remembering things he hadn’t thought of since before he woke up in a Romanian hospital completely out of his mind. Gabi visited him once there, alone, dug her hands in his hair and cried for him, or maybe for herself, but her words were mixed up in his memory and stayed distorted. She might have kissed him, might have said goodbye. It could have been a hallucination. He spent months in that place, and all of it was a blur.

He had no Gabi now. Beautiful Gabi, with fire in her hair and dangerous eyes and a free soul that matched his own. No Gabi to redirect his anger or take away his pain, to play music for him. To heal him. Not this time.

He couldn’t drink. He did take drugs, but he took them mostly for pain management. Sometimes he smoked weed. But no really _fun_ drugs, for the same reason as no drinking. His one attempt left him mentally scarred and lost in the pouring rain, calling Darko at night from a pay phone that probably should have stopped working a decade ago. Missing time, not knowing where the fuck he was or what he had been doing for the last several hours. That had been terrifying.

All he had was fucking Darko, with his constant prodding and always running his mouth, trying to get on his nerves just to make Nigel talk. That was all he had. And cigarettes, when Darko remembered to buy more than his just own stash. When he didn’t, Nigel just took them anyway.

Life was _very_ confusing, and he felt aimless.

Until he met Adam Raki.

 

* * *

 

It was fucking hot outside, and even hotter in the car.

He looked down into his lap.

_“The Mount Wilson Observatory (MWO) is an astronomical observatory in Los Angeles County, California, United States. The MWO is located on Mount Wilson, a 1,740-metre (5,710-foot) peak in the San Gabriel Mountains near Pasadena, northeast of Los Angeles.”_

“Why in the fuck are you taking me all the way out _there?_ ” Nigel asked, glancing up from the Wikipedia page to glower accusingly at Darko in the driver’s seat. He couldn’t comprehend what was so exciting about staring at the sky in broad daylight. He could fucking do that now, stick his head out of the window and look straight up and go home just as satisfied.

Darko contemplated, and Nigel thought he saw a smirk. He prepared for the break-check that would smash his head against the windshield, but it never came. Darko must have only been imagining it. Well, as long as he didn’t need the real thing. Darko was back to looking irritated with him again. Nigel figured it was safe.

All the same, he suddenly decided to buckle his seat belt.

“You ungrateful fuck,” Darko sighed, but his tone wasn’t as rough as Nigel had expected it to be. It was more tired than angry. “Because if you hate fun these days, maybe you’ll enjoy something boring for a change. Maybe you did a complete and total turnaround on me. Maybe I’ll catch you _reading!_ Or solving equations, instead of screwing beautiful women and getting drunk off your ass like the old Nigel. Hey, do you feel any smarter? Or are you really just aging?”  

It was all a joke and Nigel fucking knew it, but it still stirred up something sick in his stomach.

“I’m still the same person,” Nigel said, but he waited a long time to say it. He lit a cigarette.

Darko paused. “I’m just kidding. I know that. You’re just…Kind of toned down? Hell, maybe getting shot was good for you.” He winced at his own words, clenched the wheel harder. “No, I didn’t mean that either. It wasn’t.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Nigel huffed, rolling his eyes and blowing smoke. It was almost fucking endearing, seeing his lifelong friend care enough to not want to step on his toes, for reasons other than getting screamed at or punched. He didn’t want to hurt his feelings. “I’m different now, then. Fucking whatever, all right? It’s good. All good. How far are we?”

“Not that far now,” Darko assured him.

 

* * *

 

Nigel was not particularly fond of heights.

Nigel didn’t like being thrown into a group of chatty, overly-excitable tourists either, consisting mostly of old couples and incredibly young, chatty students. And then there was Darko and Nigel, generally unhappy and not exactly welcoming, and very out of place.

But Nigel did like the tour guide.

Actually, as soon as he laid eyes on him, he was pretty fucking sure he was in love with him.

Adam Raki introduced himself with a small, nervous smile and a gentle clasping together of his hands, and then he started talking about things Nigel wouldn’t have been able to comprehend even before he had the excuse of a brain injury. Nigel didn’t care. He stared, unblinking, at the beautiful creature before him, and everything else became static. Adam was so young, and he looked like an angel. Unblemished pale skin, with a head full of dark curls that looked wild and tame all at once and bounced with his movements. His eyes were blue and wide, shining with feeling as he spoke. And his _voice._ It was like cool water on a hot day, gentle even with its stalls and his occasional faltering, the way he got so animated and wanted to tell them about whatever the fuck. Oh, Nigel could listen to this forever. His enthusiasm was contagious.

It was almost like listening to Gabi play music.

“…A star, for instance, and the waves form an interference pattern...as they add together, or cancel out, add together, cancel out. It's what we call constructive interference, or destructive interference...”

Nigel had no fucking clue what the kid was saying, but he loved every second of it.

“Oh, no,” Darko said in his ear, catching onto the very specific, incredibly dumb look that crossed Nigel’s face. “We’re not going through all this again. Gabi, remember? Hello? Do you remember what happened last time?” He purposefully flicked Nigel in the head, hoping it might resonate, and was stricken when Nigel actually _ignored_ him, just distractedly batting his hand away. Darko might as well have been a fly.  

“I must have him,” Nigel said under his breath, with great determination. He felt better than he had in months.

“You _what?_ No, fuck this.” Darko stepped on his foot, hard, hoping bring him down to earth and knock some sense into him before all hope was lost.

“Fuck!” Nigel exclaimed, earning several disappointed looks from the crowd around them. Including the confused stare of Adam himself, before he dismissed it with a small shake of his head and continued rambling on excitedly as if nothing had happened.  

“Welcome back,” Darko grunted, his fierce glare warding off onlookers. No one wanted a confrontation, not with them. “What are you doing?” he whispered frantically. “You get crazy, man. Fucking somebody is one thing, but I know that look. No. _No._ I knew this was a stupid fucking idea. I never should have tried to get you outside. You were better off moping in bed.”

“Shut the fuck up, I’m listening to something,” Nigel said, his brown eyes pinned directly on the sweet angel in front of them.

“Look at him, Nigel, he’s just a kid. Practically,” Darko added, when Nigel shot him a disgusted look. “I thought you weren’t into guys, anyway. Okay, whatever. Please just don’t embarrass me, that’s all I’m asking of you. We’ll leave after this and I’ll never make you go anywhere again, I promise.”

“Leave? Fuck no, this is my new favorite place. We’re coming here every day.”

“ _Nigel._ ”

Nigel had enough of it. He whirled on him, struggling to keep his voice low and even, grateful for when the group started moving and he and Darko were left behind.

“Darko, I swear to fucking God, if you don’t let me have this one, single shining star in my life, I’m going to finally fucking implode. Let me enjoy myself for a fucking while, for a change. I’m not ready to go back to being fucking miserable.”

It sounded pathetic, when he was finished, and it dawned on him; Darko was right.

Whether indulging in this would help him or send him spiraling even further down the hole, he didn’t know. But he wanted to hold onto it if he could. And that was probably his first mistake with Gabi, falling in love immediately and never thinking about it, but…

He would do it right this time.

If it didn’t work…

He would go back to doing what he was doing before; eat, sleep, survive. Recover. Wait for a new inspiration or a new purpose to live. But his purpose was here. Standing over there, talking to all those people and smiling shyly, avoiding eye contact but being oh so polite and gentle—

The tour was over.

Darko was looking at him expectantly, not saying a word, and Nigel had every chance in the world to walk over and introduce himself to Adam Raki.

So why weren’t his feet moving?

Nigel swallowed, watched the rest of the crowd begin to depart, and knew he would have to act quickly.

A thought struck him at the worst moment, while his eyes scanned over the lithe young man’s form and got stuck on his half-smile, the fluttering eyelashes, and the adorable self-conscious twitches he made when someone approached him with a question.

Nigel didn’t deserve somebody like that. He hadn’t even deserved Gabi.

He thought of her, and he felt nothing except grief for his own actions. All his fucking mistakes. _His_ mistakes, not hers. And then he looked at himself. A former drug trafficker, all scars seen and unseen, living under the care of a friend who took over the business from afar because Nigel was too fucking stupid and unfit to do it anymore, and had to pretend he didn’t know because Darko specifically never talked about it. Nigel, with bad dreams and a shit memory, who smoked too much and did nothing all day long and couldn’t even have a drink anymore or a bump without winding up in the middle of the city not knowing how he got there, reduced to a shivering confused mess. Nigel, who was waiting for something to go wrong, for Darko to fuck up, for someone to find them, and to pay for all he had done.

Nigel, who had done some real fucked up shit, and couldn’t remember half of it until he was asleep.

No. Adam Raki, this fucking angel, with all his pleased chittering about the stars and the heavens that Nigel would never fully appreciate, deserved better.

“Nah, you’re right,” Nigel said after a minute, and pretended not to notice the open bewilderment on Darko’s face. He backed up. His throat felt dry. “Let’s get out of here. I’ve got a headache.”

Darko said okay.

 

* * *

 

Still, Nigel couldn’t shake it.

He slept on it, and then he slept on it some more.

And then he started ordering books.

First, he read something simple. Elementary, and it would have been embarrassing if anyone knew he was reading it. It covered the basics, and soon he could narrow it down to what he actually _wanted_ to read about. It was a pile, and then it was a mountain. To be fair he was skimming through them and only reading whatever held his interest, which turned out to be a little more than he expected, but not that much at all. But he didn’t need to know all of it, he just needed enough. Telescopes were boring, but he got an idea of how they worked. It was the stars and the planets that pulled him in, the oddities of them and less about the literal explanations for them, but…He did his best. One couldn’t say he didn’t try.

Extreme weather on other planets, _that_ shit was pretty fucking cool. Space exploration, colonization, and a lot of the science-fiction bullshit, he could get into that. It wasn’t the same stuff Adam had talked about, but hell. Nigel was a simpler man.

If Darko took notice in his sudden new interests, and he most certainly did, he didn’t comment on it.

“I’m leaving for about a week,” Darko said one evening just before Nigel retreated to his room with takeout, the cat waddling after him with high hopes for scraps.  

“Okay?” Nigel snorted, but he started feeling anxious.

“Right. Just, don’t have a fucking seizure or anything, all right?” Darko was rubbing at his temples, shoulders hunched and muscles tight. Nigel opened his mouth to complain about not needing supervision, and promptly closed it because honestly, yeah. That probably wasn’t true.   

“Yeah, all right.”

He didn’t bother asking why. He knew.  

Once Darko was gone and things were too quiet, he decided to go to the observatory on his own.

It was a frustrating experience, mostly because Nigel hated the drive and hated being out in public and hated everybody around him, all the time. He didn’t see any sign of Adam Raki that day, but despite his disappointment he held a new respect for the observatory itself and hung around a little longer out of genuine curiosity. Then he went home and smoked all his cigarettes, and ordered a pizza and watched cheap porn. He smoked weed and ate too much and woke up to a ridiculous mess and the cat was plotting to smother him.

He went back the next day, and skipped the day after that, but he went again.

And he saw Adam, every time.

Just glimpses, but it was worth hearing his voice, glancing over his shoulder and watching him from afar. He was still as beautiful as the first time Nigel saw him, he still stirred the same feelings in his chest, his pull was still magnetic and almost sinful to resist. But he did resist, and he tried not to stare. In truth, he didn’t know what he was doing, and he wasn’t going to act until he knew for sure. Maybe this would pass.

He had a feeling it wouldn’t, and he was right for one of the few times of his life.  

A few days later, after a particularly nice Adam-watching session, he sat on a bench outside in the California heat. He was stretched out and smoking with his ankles crossed and his head tilted back. He didn’t know if he would go inside the observatory again or go home. He was beginning to get self-conscious. _Imagine that._ But the cautious looks employees threw him, because who could forget Nigel, were putting him on his toes. Even if he didn’t go in, he had developed an appreciation for the view. It was almost worth coming up here for that alone. He threw his arm around the side of the bench and twisted to look at the mountains, at the clouds that crept over them. The air felt clear up here. He probably shouldn’t be smoking, wasting the clean oxygen he could be tasting instead. He definitely needed it.

“Hello.”

His heart skipped a beat and he slowly turned around to see Adam Raki standing in front of him, his hands stuffed in his pockets one moment and then rubbing at his arms the next, as if he wasn’t sure what to do with them. Nigel couldn’t talk, couldn’t even say hello back, just drew in a sharp breath and hoped he wouldn’t scare him away. Or worse. He hoped Adam hadn’t noticed his presence and been creeped out by it, just coming to tell him to fuck off, or accuse him of stalking. He might have been right, but still.

“May I sit?” Adam asked.

“Fucking yeah,” Nigel said immediately, and then he briefly considered throwing himself over the edge of the mountain. He closed his eyes for a moment to grieve for his lost dignity. “Yeah, sure. Of course.”

Lovely Adam sat on his pretty behind next to Nigel, and Nigel blew out his breath. Well. Here it came. He was fully prepared to be told off, to feel his fragile heart break and slink away with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth and his pride wounded deep.  

“I’m Adam Raki,” Adam said after a deep inhale, his chest puffing up from it, and held out his hand. It looked like a special effort was being made.

Nigel took it tentatively, secretly admiring how soft Adam’s palm was in comparison to his own. “Nigel,” he offered, finding himself again after a long moment.

Adam acknowledged him with a nod, and withdrew his hand into his own lap. His eyes never rose to meet Nigel’s, but he looked like he was trying his best, and Nigel knew immediately; Adam was something special. Nigel allowed himself to stare freely, because this might be the only chance he got, and Adam didn’t seem to mind. He feasted on it. Adam was even more gorgeous up close.

Adam opened his mouth and spoke in a rush, “I’ve been told by my co-workers that you’ve been coming here frequently, and appeared to be interested in me specifically. I don’t pick up on social cues very well, so I hadn’t noticed. I just thought you liked it here, though I was confused because on your first visit you were very rude.”

Nigel wanted to toss himself over the cliff again. “Look, I’m sorry,” he said, placing his cigarette between his fingers as he held up his hands. He straightened his back, prepared to leave, even though the thought killed him. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I’ll—”

“What happened to your face?”

Nigel didn’t know what the fuck he meant, and when he did, he didn’t know how to feel about it. “Sorry?”

Adam pointed to his own head, indicating the not-yet-faded, probably-never-will-fade scar on Nigel’s. “What happened?”

“I got shot,” Nigel said dumbly.

Adam’s very expressive eyebrows shot upward. It was impressive. “The chances of surviving a gunshot wound to the head is roughly forty percent, and even less have a suitable quality of life afterward. It’s a twenty percent chance of survival if it’s self-inflicted.”

Nigel blinked. He had expected the usual; a sympathetic glance, painful embarrassment on their part, sincere apologies, and a change of subject. Or fear. Not…that. “Well, I’m not fucking lying,” he added unnecessarily.

“I didn’t say you were, Nigel,” Adam said thoughtfully, seeming more intrigued than put-off by him. “Um, are you angry with me?”

“What?”

“You said ‘fucking.’”

“I tend to do that,” Nigel explained, tilting his head to the side. Fucking Adam. Defying all his expectations, in the best way. Then, because Adam hadn’t said anything else, “No, I’m not angry with you. I just say ‘fuck’ a lot.”

“Oh,” Adam said, and it was the sweetest, softest fucking sound Nigel had ever heard in his entire life. “How did you get shot?”

 _Oh Christ._ Nigel admired his straightforwardness, but it was jarring. And so wonderfully refreshing. “I made a very stupid mistake.”

“Oh. It was an accident?”

“Not exactly…”

Adam peered up at him for just a moment, waiting for clarification, and Nigel finally got a good look at those eyes of his.

Incredibly open and blue, even if they were flighty. It was just like seeing the sky, really seeing it, for the very first time. Nigel could see stars in those eyes, the spark of intelligence and the knowledge in that special brain of his, the passion he’d seen during the private tour and around the observatory. Nigel hadn’t met anyone who felt so passionately about something before. Aside from…

He pushed the thought away, and lost himself in Adam. Willingly, he fell into the depths that waited. He was doomed. He had fallen in love. Fucking love.

His world had been spinning nonstop for months, and it suddenly stood still. Because of Adam.

“I did it to hurt someone,” Nigel said softly.

“That’s vague,” Adam replied with a puzzled frown, and Nigel wanted to kiss him. “You only hurt yourself.”

“No, you’re right.”

They sat together in a companionable silence, once Nigel realized Adam wasn’t here to chase him away. Nigel needed another cigarette, really bad, but he didn’t dare reach for it. He hoped he didn’t smell too smoky, or like old pizza, or fucking marijuana. He had taken to showering more frequently, keeping more clean lately, so maybe he didn’t. But he still spotted the white cat hair on his shirt, and absently brushed it off. Hoped Adam didn’t see it.

“Are you here so much because you’re interested in me sexually?”

Nigel started coughing, and Adam seemed to understand that perhaps this might have been an inappropriate thing to say, which was great because Nigel probably would have said yes if he could have spoken at all.

“Smoking is bad for your lungs,” Adam scorned, waiting for him to breathe again, and he stole Nigel’s breath away once more with, “Would you like to go to a star party with me?”

“A fucking _what,_ darling?” Nigel huffed.

Adam frowned, and Nigel couldn’t tell if it was because of him calling Adam ‘darling,’ or his lack of knowledge about what the fuck a fucking ‘star party’ was.

“Occasionally my friends set up a local event for us and others in the public to stargaze, and learn a few things. It can be fun, even if I get tired of talking to people. The sky is supposed to be very clear tonight. Do you have a telescope, or binoculars?”

“Uh, no.”

“That’s all right, you can borrow mine if you promise to give them back.” It was already set in Adam’s mind, and Nigel made an effort to close his gaping mouth.

_Am I dreaming?_

“Of course, sweetheart,” Nigel said. “I promise.”

Adam smiled, and Nigel didn’t miss the brief flush that crossed his cheeks. His own face was starting to feel hot.

He was going to treat Adam like the angel he was, no matter what happened, or where this took them.

It was decided.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can't wait to explore this little universe further, feel free to request things.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided to add this chapter, because after writing it, it just didn't feel separate enough from the first to stand on its own. Thank you for your support! I didn’t expect such an overwhelmingly positive response, or this many supporters at all. :))
> 
>  [Woman With a Crow (the Last Train)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f_9nJ8VJeA8)

Adam Raki was everything he had never dreamed of, but he was perfect.

_Would you like to go to a star party with me?_

It was like taking off a blindfold he didn’t realize he had on. Seeing, really _seeing_ for the first time. The open air chilled him, and he felt small standing there under the great, dark expanse of sky and the countless stars spread out across the night. Light from millions, trillions of miles away, all of it shining down on his Adam, who smiled and flashed his teeth while Nigel stared at the soft curves of Adam’s face, the spark in his eyes, the way the wind pulled at his curls and insisted on scattering them across his forehead no matter how hard he tried to keep them in order. Nigel would be lying if he said it was the sky that left him breathless. But that was nice, too.

Sitting in the grass, listening to white noise while Adam settled beside him after setting up his equipment, it was almost peaceful. Underneath his skin his blood felt cold, his muscles were tense from so many people milling about, but most left them alone. Because of him or because of Adam’s adorable, incessant rambling, he couldn’t be sure. Nigel couldn’t resist looking at him more, entirely forgetting the bleeding pink and blue colors overhead as it blackened and eventually left him with only shadows where Adam had been. Only then did he take the time to fully appreciate what drifted above their heads.

Adam was straightforward. He didn’t understand the point of jokes, and it took him a little while to ‘get’ the punchline. He found this frustrating. He preferred to talk about facts, things that were solid. Safe subjects, Nigel guessed, as it dawned on him that Adam was indeed incredibly different from everyone else around them. That was fine. He preferred Adam the way he was; excitable, beautiful, shy, smart as hell and more than a little difficult. Adam explained everything, unprovoked. He laid it all out, before Nigel could ask a single question. He spoke with careful precision, having practiced this speech, or given it a hundred times before. Nigel suspected the latter.

For whatever reason, Adam also told him he strictly ate only macaroni and cheese, and deviated only on occasion. This was very important. Adam had been changing his habits this past year, attempting to adjust to newer things, but he wouldn’t budge when it came to macaroni and cheese. He gave Nigel a pointed look.

“Okay, darling,” Nigel had said, trying his best not to question it, and the obvious relief that crossed Adam’s face made him smile until his fucking face hurt. Adam could eat all the fucking macaroni and cheese he wanted, and fuck anyone who told this little sweetheart that he couldn’t.

Nigel didn’t kiss him, but he fucking wanted to.

Most of Nigel’s relationships had been unstable. One night stands or short-lived flings. On and off, off and on. Sometimes it was chaotic, borderline abusive from both ends, lasting for just weeks. He’d decide to disappear, or they would, and it would be over. Sometimes they died. It was a risk of the business, and the very particular crowd it attracted. But sometimes he ended up with someone for a few years, and even then, he was rarely loyal. Nobody expected it of him, and he didn’t really expect it from the women, either. Or the few men, of which he told no one. Fair was fair. Until Gabi, and even then, it was…Gabi was an anomaly, an obsession.

Nigel discovered he could love. Naturally, he loved too hard, like everything else he did. He let it eat him from the inside out, let it consume everything, let it drive him insane. He wasn’t going to do this with Adam. He wouldn’t put him through it.

It felt different this time, but he still couldn’t trust himself. Especially now, if he really was unstable.

He would take it slow. He would learn to be delicate, treat him like a flower that might wilt from his touch if he wasn’t careful. Because he might. Because everything tended to die, where Nigel was involved. He broke things. On purpose or on accident, it didn’t matter, because it all ended the same; mangled and mutilated in his rough hands. He sucked the life out of everything. He didn’t know how not to.

But he refused to break Adam.

 

* * *

 

Nigel stared in the mirror, and what glowered back at him was something he didn’t recognize. Hadn’t recognized for some time. How had he not looked at himself until now? Not seen it? He looked fucking sad. His eyes were tired, the color less olive and more greyish, with dark circles underneath and his hair looked like it needed a cut several months ago. He groaned at the sight of more silver streaks than there had been previously, and told himself it was a trick of the light. It was wishful thinking. He purposefully ignored the scar on his head, the imagined sense of something pressing there, and moved on to inspect the rest of himself. All the months of recovery and moping had led to him going soft around the middle, just a bit. Not very noticeable, but…

He could do better.

He set out on a mission. He shaved. With great reluctance, he cut his hair. He started working out. Nothing too strenuous, at first, but as much as he wanted to climb into bed and stay there he did his best to avoid it. He forced himself to stay awake all day and only sleep at night. He ignored his dizziness, took his medicine on time. Mostly. Wore better clothes, tried not to eat like shit. Smoking was his macaroni and cheese; he would cling to that, for the sake of his sanity. Adam would understand, hopefully.

When he visited the observatory again, Adam could only spare him a few minutes, but it was worth the drive just to see him. Adam was confused. He tilted his pretty head to one side, and commented on how well Nigel looked in comparison to the last time. Nigel didn’t feel the need to be offended in how he said it. It had only been a few short days, but knowing there was a visible difference made the growling of his stomach and the heaviness of his eyelids feel...less. He laughed instead, took pride in the way Adam’s smile started small and grew wide, breaking out across his entire face.

“When can I see you again, Angel?”

Adam rubbed his arms and shifted uncomfortably at the pet name, opening his mouth to protest, and then thought better of it. Nigel couldn’t miss the mild flush in his cheeks, the way his smile stuck and refused to leave.

“Do you have a phone? I think it would be appropriate to exchange numbers. I like you, Nigel. I want to see you again, too.”

That familiar warmth swelling inside his chest, stronger than ever, felt good.

When Darko returned from his trip, he took one look at Nigel and guffawed.  

“Fucking Nigel is back!”

Dramatically, he leapt forward and encircled his arms around his friend’s middle, ignoring how Nigel squirmed and complained loudly about his sore muscles, and his inevitable anger at being lifted off the ground so easily. Nigel was starting to notice just how frail he’d gotten, and it was embarrassing. Darko swung him around and Nigel threatened to vomit. It worked, but nothing he said, no insult he threw could wipe the fucking grin off Darko’s face. A fist might have solved that, but Nigel’s frustration faded and he lost the will to throw the punch.

“What happened to you, did you finally get laid?”

“Not yet,” Nigel said cryptically, and realized with a start he hadn’t really thought about it.

Darko was too pleased with him to push for more information. Afraid to break him, maybe, afraid to revert all the healing that had been done with careless words that so often tumbled from both their mouths. Nigel could see the caution in his movements, and in his face when he thought Nigel wasn’t looking. For a moment, Nigel was overcome with fondness for his childhood friend. He swallowed it down, before he said something stupid. He tried to feel indignant about it, but the indignation didn't come. 

 

* * *

 

 _How fucking dare you?_  

It had been the last thing to run through his head, before the bullet. Didn’t feel a thing, or couldn’t remember. 

In his dreams, he could feel everything, even if it was imagined. 

Nigel woke in a cold sweat, eyes searching in the darkness and fingers digging tight into what remained of the sheets, the rest kicked halfway across the room. He thought he saw blood, but it disappeared. He gasped for breath, swallowing as much air as he could, as though it might be his last. When he realized where he was, he heaved it all out. His throat was dry, but he would ignore it. It was fucking early, too early to get out of bed. He sighed heavily and leaned back, expecting to lie flat, and instead his skull connected with the wall. He flinched forward and threw his hands over his head, cursing colorfully. The pillows were on the floor.

He settled on his side, and in the pitch black room, it was all too easy to see images that didn’t exist. Stuff he would have preferred to forget, permanently. He should have lost everything. It would have been easier. 

Fucking wounded dog.

 

* * *

 

“Are those directions sufficient?”

 _Fucking yeah they are_ , he wanted to say, but instead he said, “Yeah, it’s fine, Angel.”

Adam went out as often as he could manage, but Nigel could tell he didn’t like to.

Adam liked to run through his daily routine, deviating only when he needed or wanted to, and other people tended to make him nervous. He said he found it difficult. Whatever that meant, Nigel had assured him he hated being in public, too. Adam had clearly taken this into account, and decided to offer a private dinner at his place.

Dinner with Adam.

At Adam’s.

Nigel had never been so fucking excited to eat macaroni and fucking cheese in his life.

Adam hesitated on the other end of the line, and Nigel could imagine his blue eyes half-hidden under long fluttering lashes. “I’m excited to see you,” Adam confessed, almost sounding confused about it, but Nigel knew he only ever said what he meant. “I want to know more about you.”

It was like a knife, twisting in his gut, and Nigel visibly winced. _No, you don’t, gorgeous._ “I can’t wait," he said. 

“Well, you’re going to have to, because I haven’t—”

“I know, darling, I meant I’m excited to see you too.”

“Oh,” Adam breathed, and he must have blushed. “Okay.”

He hung up, and Nigel reluctantly lowered the phone from his ear so he could look at the screen, memorizing the street address and the numbers as best he could. He tried not to think about what he would tell Adam, exactly, when the questions inevitably came. He could give him a version of the truth, which would be honest enough considering the circumstances. But it was still a lie. He couldn’t lie to Adam.

He stared at the few messages they’d sent, his vision starting to blur as his thoughts deepened. He jerked when Darko came up behind him and said in his ear, “Is that Adam?” Nigel’s shoulder bumped against Darko’s chin and he heard the click of teeth as Darko’s jaw snapped shut, and the pained grunt that followed.

Nigel smirked with satisfaction at that, turning his head to watch how Darko rubbed at his mouth and tentatively checked his tongue for signs of blood. It wasn’t bleeding, of course. For a professional badass, he was an absolute diva. “I hope you _don’t_ get laid,” Darko spat, moving to create distance between them.

Nigel didn’t give a fuck if he got laid, not tonight, but he would never admit it to Darko. He might give him a heart-attack. “I’m going out for a run,” he said.

“Good, you’ve gotten fat,” Darko snapped sorely. 

Nigel scanned the room, searching for something to throw, but alas, there was nothing except the cat. He considered it, but it just stared up at him with its big eyes and its chubby cheeks, and he decided he’d better not. He picked it up. It was heavy as hell and enjoying itself immensely, purring and completely limp with a lazy expression that resembled a human smile.

Utterly terrifying.

“We only eat what Darko feeds us. Don’t we, pussycat?” he said, mostly to himself.

Darko was affronted, quickly snatching the feline from Nigel’s incapable hands. Its claws tugged on his shirt, dislodging only after some shaking. Its toes kept moving, kneading the air. It was like a fucking alien, fat and smiling and practically waving at him, with emotionless orbs for eyes.

“She is not fat,” Darko said protectively, but he spun her around to look for himself. He frowned at what he saw. “I don’t know, I’ve never owned a cat. Is she fat?”

“You’re in fucking denial.”

“Go the fuck away, I won’t let you spoil her self-esteem with lies. I bought her for _you_ , asshole.”

“You’re getting fucking weird on me,” Nigel told him, and ducked out of the apartment.

It was hot outside, but fuck it, it would prompt him to get it over with. The crowd was unavoidable, and his legs hurt from disuse. Physical therapy and regular exercise hadn’t been something he’d prioritized, and he was paying for it now. He felt gross as shit as soon as the sun spilled on him but he reoriented his thoughts. Focused on taking in breaths, letting them out, keeping his balance and not tripping over his own feet. It was harder than expected, but possible.

As the morning rolled on, he felt eyes like daggers on his back and shoulders, making his skin prickle. He felt watched, which was ridiculous, because there were fucking people everywhere, and he always drew attention anywhere he went. Something urged him to check over his shoulder. It might have been the people, the way he started feeling crushed among them despite being generally avoided like the plague, or it could have been the heat getting to him. He was sweating.

He dipped into a café on the street with no intention of staying there. He spent a while staring through the window, eyes dragging over every single passerby, young and old, unsure of why he was doing it. It felt more like instinct. When he realized it probably looked bad, he decided he’d calmed down enough to go outside. Somehow, he didn’t see the guy trying to push through the door at the same time as him, and it was an awkward mess of grumbled sorry’s and excuse me’s that probably sounded more like growls coming from him. He thought nothing of it, once he got away.

Until he stopped at a crosswalk and happened to look back, several minutes later, and saw the same fucker again.

Paranoia flooded his senses, made him tense and his mouth feel like cotton. He decided to go another direction, changing his mind at the last second when the light flickered on to walk. He gave it a while. Glanced over his shoulder again, scanned the area, and almost felt safe until the stranger was suddenly rounding the corner after him.

Instinctively, he reached for his waist, and realized too late he hadn’t carried a gun in over a year.  

Forcing himself to set a normal pace, he pulled out his phone and dialed Darko’s number.

“What?”

Darko sounded like he was eating something crunchy, and the television in the background was painfully loud. Which meant he was in Nigel’s room, eating shit that didn’t fucking belong to him, and Nigel _hadn’t_ been going crazy when he noticed missing food for the last few weeks.

No, he would have to worry about that shit later.  

“I’m being followed,” Nigel said, keeping his voice low.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m fucking sure.”

“Don’t come back. Go the opposite direction, see if you can lose him. Call me then, I’ll come get you in a cab.”

Right, he thought, taking in a deep breath before he decided to lose himself in the throng of people. He moved faster, panic starting to rush his heart beat and make his head throb in time with it, and couldn’t help but think this would have been so much easier if he had been home. He didn’t fucking know these streets, he was only just now starting to get around and he’d been here for months.

Nigel wasn’t used to being prey; he usually did the chasing.

This really pissed him off, and so he did something fucking stupid.

One moment bled into the next, and instead of stepping into the street he was in an alley, pressed back against the brick. Waiting. His mind was set. Before he could change it, the man came into view. He appeared confused, almost frantic, and Nigel knew he was looking for him. He ignored his conscience, which sounded a lot like a shouting Darko, and shot out his arm to wrap his fingers around the stranger’s throat.

Nigel slammed him against the wall, adrenaline making it easy, and held him several inches off the ground until his legs dangled and he kicked helplessly.   

Whoever this was, he was an amateur.

That was what Nigel thought, and soon he wasn’t thinking much of anything at all. He wasn’t as strong as he remembered _. Shit_ , he thought, rather dumbly. His grip slipped, and another skull crashed forcefully into his, knocking him out cold before he hit the ground.

 

* * *

 

A series of flashing lights and the constant, annoying sound of a shutter finally stirred him from unconsciousness.

“Oh, you’re alive.”

Nigel groaned.

“You all right?”  

He had a headache from hell.

His opponent had propped him up in a sitting position and left him, and that explained why it was so fucking dark outside when he opened his eyes. It was why no one had seen him on the ground earlier and thought to stop, until this person did, prodding him and moving his hair out of his face, hands too soft and too close for his comfort. How long had he been here?

“Mmhf,” he said.

“You look like hell.”

He squinted, catching a glimpse of red hair, and his heart stilled. But no. His vision cleared and the streetlights illuminated the poofy head of curls that hovered over his, warm breath on his cheeks. Not unpleasant, but not wanted. He reached out to push himself off the ground, and hands glued to his shoulders to shove him back.

“You probably shouldn’t stand up so fast. Unless you want to fall. I’ll let you, if you want, but that’s just my advice.”

He ignored her and got to his feet anyway, regretting it as his stomach churned and he turned to the side to puke without an ounce of grace. Someone snorted behind him, and he whipped around to say something but his head hurt with the action and he decided it best to be a fucking gentleman for once. He dragged a hand over his face, feeling for damages, and his fingers came away with dried blood from his nose. He didn’t have pain anywhere else. He hadn’t been stabbed, or shot. He was alive.

“You going to say anything, or should I be on my way?” the woman said.

“Did you see a guy around here?” Nigel grunted, unaware of how vague he sounded.

The lady frowned, her arms crossing tight over her chest. A camera hung around her neck. She was a small thing, with high cheekbones that rivaled his own, and he didn’t have a clue who the fuck she was or why she stopped to help, but she had disapproval written all over her face.

She would have preferred him dead, he realized. “No, did you?” she asked.

It was his turn to snort. “I think someone hit me.”

“With a car, at least?”

“What?”

“No? That’s a shame, I was hoping for something more interesting than a back-alley brawl.”

Nigel eyed her carefully, using the wall for support because he was still unsteady on his feet. He patted his pants and was relieved to feel the outline of a phone that hadn’t been stolen. He glanced at it. Seven missed calls, and he’d only been out here for a handful of hours. He looked at her. “Do you have a cigarette?”

“I suppose,” she said, taking her time to hand one over and light it for him.

“You’re fucking weird,” he told her, blowing smoke to calm his trembling nerves.

“You’re welcome,” she said, and reached into her purse to produce a small card. “If you have anything interesting to tell me, shoot me an e-mail. I’ve wasted enough time trying to help. You got money for a cab?”

“Yeah,” he lied, taking the business card and flipping it over to examine it. _Freddie Lounds, journalist._ He didn’t quite believe it, and he gave her skeptical look. It must have offended her.

“Have a nice night, sir,” Freddie said, with a cold and forced smile, and when she turned on her heel Nigel almost considered stopping her. He settled for watching her go, scoffing at the confident and exaggerated sway of her hips, and he pocketed the card silently.

Fucking redheads.

 

* * *

 

“I need a cigarette,” was the first thing he said when he walked through the door of the dark apartment, and when Darko pressed the barrel of a gun to his head.

Darko froze when he realized it was just Nigel. Quickly dropping the gun, he stepped forward to yank Nigel by the collar and pull him into a too-tight embrace that ended as fast as it started. It left Nigel spinning.

“You didn’t answer the fucking phone. Idiot,” Darko said, shoving him away harshly and pointedly avoiding his gaze. “Where were you?”

“Knocked the fuck out,” Nigel muttered, dropping heavy into a seat after rummaging around to find some smokes. “Don’t think they’re after us for what you’re thinking, because I didn’t wake up with a knife stuck in me or another bullet in my head.”

It was a fair point, but it didn’t settle Darko any more than it settled Nigel. He was just too tired to care at the moment. His lower half slid forward and he leaned his head back over the edge of the chair, closing his eyes.

“You’ve always had a thick skull,” Darko said at last, sounding reserved.

“I do not think it can take much more,” Nigel confessed.

It was quiet. Nigel appreciated it, thankful for the lack of light. It was easy on his eyes. He felt the cigarette fall from his lips and cursed under his breath, reaching to retrieve it before Darko could complain about setting the place on fire. His phone fell, too, and he gave up with a frustrated grunt.

“Go to bed, I’ll figure it out,” Darko said after a minute. “If we aren’t dead yet, we still have some time.”

Time for what, Nigel didn’t ask, instead dragging himself to his room and kicking the door shut. He almost fell into the bed, it looked so inviting, but he forced himself to wash out the taste of bile from his mouth and clean off the dirt and grime that had sunk through his clothes. It was when he hit the mattress, sore and clean, that he suddenly lunged out of it and started clumsily pulling on clothes.

Adam.

_Fucking Adam._

Nigel checked his phone again, but couldn’t find anything from him. Not a call, not a text. How late was he? Fucking _hours._ He poked his head out of his room and headed for the kitchen, finding Darko’s wallet discarded on the table. He flipped through it, removed only what he needed for a ride, grumbled an excuse to himself under his breath and quietly left the way he came.

 

* * *

 

“Adam, sweetheart, I know you can hear me. Just listen, okay?”

Nigel had been standing outside the door for what felt like ages, peering into the curtained window and watching the silhouette of a slender figure pacing around soundlessly inside. It was the right address, and he knew it when Adam refused to open the door or even speak to him, instead pretending he wasn’t there.

“I’m sorry, Adam. Something came up.”

Nigel winced at his own words, pressing hard into the door. What a terrible way to explain it, but how else could he? _Someone might be following me because I used to be a drug trafficker and I kind of killed some people, darling. Don’t worry, I don’t do that shit anymore because I got shot in the head and I’m fucking useless now, but my best friend is still involved. By the way, it’s dangerous to be with me, if you haven’t guessed. Is that okay with you, darling? I might get killed this time, but hell, you only live once, right?_

Adam might be a little naïve, but he would never agree to see Nigel again if he knew.

Wouldn’t he have to tell him, someday?

If Adam would even tolerate him until then. Nigel hadn’t showed up to their first date.

He snapped out of his frantic thoughts when a heavy weight pushed against the other side of the door, and he heard Adam sliding into the floor. Nigel imagined him hugging his knees, his head tilted back and exposing his milk-white throat, his hands clasped together nervous and tight. At least Adam was listening. He hadn’t exactly told him to leave.

But what should Nigel fucking tell him?

“I’m sorry,” he began, running his tongue over the sharp edges of his teeth. “I wanted to come tonight, Adam. I’ve been enthralled with you, darling, ever since I first saw you. You’re my star,” he added with a heavy sigh. “I’ve been sitting in the dark for so long, without any light, and then there was you. I wouldn’t dare take advantage of you, Adam. I fucking swear. You’re too special, I don’t even deserve you, but if you would let me, I want to try to give you everything you could ever fucking ask for, darling. You name it. It’s yours.”

He swallowed at the shift behind the door, at the disappointing silence that followed.

“I’m not a good guy,” Nigel said finally, and he hated how vulnerable he felt in admitting it. “I don’t think I ever was. But I want to be. You make me want to be a better person…If you don’t want to talk to me, that’s okay. You don’t have to.”

Oh, he hated this. He didn’t know how he was going to find the fucking strength to move on, if this was over before it even began, when Adam was what kicked his ass into gear in the first place. He would never forgive himself for fucking this up. 

“You can tell me to leave,” he continued, burning through the last bit of reluctance. “Just say the words. You’ve done more than enough for me, darling, just by existing. I never thought I’d wake up again, Adam. I woke up when I saw you.”

“Wake up?” Adam’s voice was small. It was all Nigel needed to breathe again.

“It was like being underwater. I couldn’t hear, I couldn’t see, I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t want to. I wished that bullet had finished me,” Nigel said, and hesitated. “I hurt people, and it hurt to admit it. See it. I’ve been hurting.”

“Emotionally, you mean.”

“Mostly.”

“Do I…I make you hurt less?”

Nigel cleared his throat. “You make me feel _good._ ”

Adam sounded like he was getting to his feet, his movements as muffled and gentle as his voice.

“I know what you mean. I think. I’ve been lonely, too…Nigel.”

“I’m sorry,” Nigel repeated, but it might have been too quiet.

He nearly fell inside the apartment when the knob twisted behind his back and the door opened, Adam peering through the crack with bright blue eyes that shimmered with worry, and something else. Hope. He seemed as fragile as a porcelain doll. Nigel had hurt him. Nigel's own heart might break at the thought of it. Adam held it in his hands, though he did not know it. He could crush it if he wanted to, and it would have been wise to do so. 

Instead of sending the strange off his doorstep, Adam looked up at him from under thick lashes, his beautiful pink mouth just slightly parted. Nigel was prepared for anything, for his death sentence, and he was still floored when Adam finally spoke. 

“Dinner is cold,” Adam said tonelessly. “I don’t like re-heating food, it doesn’t taste as good. But I could make some more, if you’re still hungry.”

Nigel tried not to push his way inside, schooled himself to be completely still. “Fucking yes, darling.”

Adam smiled, looking away, and opened the door a little wider. “Nigel?”

“Yes?”

“Do you…want to kiss me?”

Out of everything, all deaths he had cheated, it would be Adam that _fucking killed him._

“Yes,” Nigel said, breathless.

Adam tilted his head expectantly. “Well?”

The little shit. 

Nigel reached out. His hands hovered over Adam’s waist but did not touch, not until Adam stepped forward and laid his fingers over Nigel’s, placing them where they needed to be. Whether it was out of reassurance or Adam’s own desire, Nigel couldn’t say, but he silently thanked him for it. It didn’t matter how long it had been since Nigel touched someone. It was because of Adam that he was on the verge of melting now, shivering with relief at the warmth that spread through him, the closeness of Adam’s breath and his skin. It wouldn’t have felt the same with someone else. Starved as he was for it, he didn’t miss touching. He just missed Adam.

Refusing to be reduced to a complete mess only from this, Nigel brushed his knuckles across Adam’s smooth cheek and leaned down. Adam met him halfway, but he was just as overwhelmed if not more so, letting out a heavy breath through his nose when their lips touched. Adam felt so good. His mouth was soft and inviting, tentative until it wasn’t, and he tasted sugary. Almost too sweet, so sweet it ached. Nigel felt fingers tangle into the front of his shirt, pulling him closer. The little angel wanted more of him, so he gave it to him, investigating Adam’s mouth with his tongue and running it over his teeth, his tongue, learning the curves, and the sound Adam made in response was a fucking testament to his perfection.

Nigel pulled away slowly. He swore he saw stars, and again in Adam’s eyes when they opened, wide and glistening. He felt dizzier than usual, and grasped at Adam for balance.

“Can we do that again after you eat?” Adam whispered, eager. His fingers were still digging into Nigel’s chest, and it was starting to hurt.

“Angel, we can do that whenever you like, as much as you like,” Nigel said with a growing smile. “Anything you fucking want, gorgeous.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The scene is set! Feel free to let me know what you want to see in the future!


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